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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25271002">Attend to the Garden Inside My Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/japansace/pseuds/japansace'>japansace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Royalty, Flower Crowns, King Victor Nikiforov, Language of Flowers, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Magical Realism, Majesties: A Yuri!!! on Ice Royalty Zine, Mutual Pining, and a lot of it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:02:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,898</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25271002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/japansace/pseuds/japansace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly-hired royal gardener Yuuri Katsuki is keeping to himself—keeping <i>secrets</i>—and His Majesty, the most honorable and fair King Victor, is determined to find out just why this is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Majesties: The Yuri!!! on Ice Royalty Zine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Attend to the Garden Inside My Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My YOI royalty zine piece! So excited to finally get this out there. Please use this fic as a place of soft refuge, to rest from the upheaval of the world.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are fireworks going off inside the greenhouse.</p><p>This is Victor’s initial thought, anyway, upon taking an innocuous stroll through the garden only to find the nursery’s walls shaking with motion, splotches of blue-green, periwinkle, and even the occasional navy splattered across the glass.</p><p>He can’t fathom what possesses him to investigate—curiosity, perhaps—but the next thing Victor knows, humid wind is whipping the braid clean off his shoulder as he breeches the threshold.</p><p>“Hello…?”</p><p>There’s a squeak from… somewhere. It’s hard to gage through the cornucopia of foliage, dripping with colors off both leaf and vine. Some have even been transmuted into the likes of plaid and polka-dot—presumably, in frustration.</p><p>And sequestered within the thickest of rose bushes, a young man vaults into a standing position, thrusting whatever he had been holding behind his back.</p><p>“Y-Your Majesty! I am <em>so sorry </em>about this!”</p><p>Victor takes in his surroundings again. Considers. “Quite the spectacle. Have you a reason for all this?”</p><p>“Yes! Er… no. I—I mean, it’s a good reason, but it’s a surprise.”</p><p>“Surprise?” Victor’s eyes twinkle with interest. “Well, I do so love surprises.”</p><p>“I know. Uh, I mean—“ The man twirls around, traversing the length of the greenhouse to deposit—from what Victor can tell—a veritable bouquet upon the surface of a worktable. “—never mind what I said. Sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“No disturbance at all,” Victor assures, drawing closer. He tries to get a better look at the other’s face, but the man just turns away, ears stained a charming crimson. “Who are you by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”</p><p>The other plucks up a lone blossom from the table, spinning it between his thumb and forefinger. “Y-Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki. Your new gardener.”</p><p>Realization dawns bright over Victor’s expression. “Ah, yes, I was briefed about you. You were chosen quite meticulously from an array of magic users to tend my garden.”</p><p>Yuuri hunches his shoulders, growing ever redder. “You flatter me, Your Majesty.”</p><p>Victor strides over to what was once a green carnation. He traces the underside of it, fingers coming back stained where it has been speckled teal. “Shall I assume you’re going for a… more experimental vibe?”</p><p>“A-ah, no. This is… not indicative of my work.”</p><p>“Will you show me then?” Victor implores, starry-eyed. “The style you like best?”</p><p>Yuuri looks at his king then—only to look right back down. He takes a long breath through parted lips, fingers fidgeting near the pockets of his apron where they are strewn with loose flora. “Soon,” he says at last, hardly audible. “I beg for your patience, Your Majesty.”</p><p>Victor tilts his head at the other with a finger to his mouth. “Then you may have it.”</p><hr/><p>Yuuri likes his flowers frosted.</p><p>It’s an odd thing, Victor notes. His kingdom is icy enough as it is; past gardeners have usually gone out of their way to melt the snow off his blooms. But Yuuri only seems to <em>encourage </em>it, swiping his fingers along the rims of daffodils as he walks the rows, a pretty smile playing at his lips.</p><p>Victor follows after—not at all furtive—and admires the handiwork: the meticulous geometric patterns lain along the petals.</p><p>But when he tries to compliment Yuuri, the man merely sputters and finds an excuse to scamper away under the guise of “getting back to work,” scrubbing at the various shades of blue that somehow always seem to stain his cheeks.</p><p>“I get the feeling my gardener is avoiding me.”</p><p>“Hm,” Chris acknowledges. He has hairpins sticking out of the corner of his mouth, fingers busy gathering Victor’s hair into a neat plait. “What gives you that impression?”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?”</p><p>“Hold still.” Chris moves Victor’s head back into place from where he’d thrown his chin over his shoulder. “And not particularly…? He’s here to work, you know.”</p><p>“And he’s doing a wonderful job! I only wish to encourage it!”</p><p>“Oh, is that all?” The pins tick upwards as a grin overtakes him. “Are you sure about that, Your Majesty?”</p><p>“Why do I feel as though that ‘Your Majesty’ is sarcastic?”</p><p>“Only your overactive imagination, <em>Your Majesty</em>.”</p><p>“Incorrigible.”<br/><br/>“I’ve been called worse.” Chris sticks a pin into Victor’s braid, securing it to the base of his crown. “And you’re not going to get any answers berating me like this. Perhaps drop in on Phichit? I heard he and Yuuri have been friends for some time.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you <em>start </em>with that?”</p><p>Chris chuckles, sliding finger pads down the length of Victor’s spine. At once, his attire is stained a soft violet; the king’s circlet, pink diamond. “Slipped my mind!”</p><hr/><p>Phichit is setting strawberries atop a buttercream cake when Victor finds him, brows furrowed in concentration as he determines the perfect spot.</p><p>“Oh, Your Majesty!” He places the strawberry down a beat too quickly, the frosting turning a bright, vivid red in his haste. “Aaw, and I was so close to done too.”</p><p>“Never mind, I like it like that.” Victor runs a finger over the side of treat, testing it against his tongue. “Tangy.”</p><p>“Isn’t it?”</p><p>“But that’s not why I’m here.” Victor retrieves one of Yuuri’s blooms he’d preciously cached from an inner pocket. “Do you recognize this work?”</p><p>“Oh, most definitely.” Phichit takes the flower from him, thumbs fondly down the stem. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“The person responsible was recently brought on as my royal gardener, but he seems to be avoiding me.”</p><p>Phichit snorts. “Well, obviously.” He turns back to his cake, situating Yuuri’s flower—a white orchid, contrasting beautifully with the crimson icing—at the fore. “I wouldn’t expect Yuuri to act any differently.”</p><p>“And why is that?”</p><p>“It’s not really my place to tell, Your Majesty.” The baker plucks up his strawberries, positioning them to this time complement the new floral centerpiece. “Give it time. I’m sure you’ll be made aware soon enough.”</p><p>So it is with a full stomach but a heavy heart that Victor leaves the kitchens, determined to do just that.</p><hr/><p>The problem is though, King Victor has never been a particularly patient man.</p><p>It comes with the territory. Being royalty does have its perks, after all. But it also makes it so much harder to wait for something—even when said something may very well be worth the wait.</p><p>So this is how Victor finds himself: hiding behind the shrubbery, watching with rapt attention as Yuuri weaves his flowers together. He’s got a good chain going now—the arrangement starting to curve inwards with its combined weight—and he hums a low aria with each addition, drawing the lightest of touches along the petals to keep them full and sprightly.</p><p>It’s when he has at last constructed a full circle that Yuuri holds it before himself, takes a slow, deep breath, and taps at the foremost flower.</p><p>Brilliant baby blue washes down the row of flowers, staining them, but Yuuri only sighs, clutching the crown to his chest.</p><p>Evidently, it isn’t what he wanted.</p><p>“Not good enough,” he mutters, forlorn, and lays the creation down before the fish pond, abandoning it for another venture.</p><p>And Victor stands with every intention to follow but finds himself struck still, frozen by the beauty that Yuuri has left upon the lawn.</p><p>He stoops to inspect—finds the flowers sturdy and whisper-soft all at once—and simply can’t stop himself from donning it, placing the crown atop his head to admire it in the reflection of the water.</p><p>Koi swim around the image: of a light-haired, long-lashed royal, made even more magnificent by a row of flowers upon his brow—blue, so blue—and almost as blue as his eyes, really, if only it was <em>just</em>—</p><p><em>Ah.</em> </p><p>Below him, Victor’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink in the water.</p><hr/><p>Victor finds Yuuri at the center of his garden, weaving vines around the columns of a pergola. The flowers coming off it are just starting to bud, hints of purple and blue peeking from between their protective leaves.</p><p>“Yuuri?”</p><p>Yuuri doesn’t quite scream but doesn’t quite <em>not scream </em>either.</p><p>Behind his back, Victor shifts his gift from one hand to the other. “Sorry to startle you.”</p><p>“You didn’t, uh—“ He swallows the obvious lie, clears his throat. “So what can I do for you?”</p><p>“Well, er, I…” Victor looks to the foliage underfoot, for strength. “I realized you were trying to make something for me—“ At which point, Yuuri darkens, considerably. “—and I thought, well… I would try to return the favor? Uh, just—“ He thrusts an arm out, where his creation dangles from his hold. “—accept it? Please?”</p><p>Yuuri inhales a breath. “Oh, <em>Your Majesty</em>.” He reaches forward to take it into his hands.</p><p>Nestled within Yuuri’s mottled fingers is a flower crown of Victor’s own making: crystal-white roses, woven with an inexperienced but exceedingly gentle touch. Yuuri cradles it with the same caution one would allot a newborn dove.</p><p>“Uh, it’s white! Like the ice!” Victor blurts. Yuuri startles, tilts his head in confusion. “Like the ice you like so much…? The snow you leave on your flowers.”</p><p>Yuuri blushes anew. He holds the crown to his chest, curling forward into it, inky black bangs falling into his eyes. “Like your hair,” he murmurs, so quietly Victor nearly doesn’t catch it.</p><p>But he does. And when the sentiment registers, his face goes just about as red as Yuuri’s.</p><p>“Ah, er, try it on, won’t you?” Victor bypasses his own sudden bout of shyness to pry the crown from Yuuri’s vice. “I think it’ll look very dashing on you.”</p><p>He places the crown, reverently, atop Yuuri’s head, in the same motion drawing Yuuri’s hair behind his ears with a finger.</p><p>Victor was right, of course. It’s most befitting.</p><p>“Beautiful.”</p><p>And he is.</p><p>Diamond dust, ocean foam, clouds retreating after a torrential downpour. The shade brings out that richness in his eyes, the color in his cheeks.</p><p>Of the two of them, Yuuri, in that moment, seems far more suited to be royalty.</p><p>At the comment—the breathed prayer—Yuuri reaches up a hand to feel at the gift, perhaps inspect what about it has caused his king to look upon him like that.</p><p>But at the moment of contact, color splashes across the petals: high tide, washing over a pale expansion of beach.</p><p>It’s the deepest, loveliest shade of blue Victor has ever had the privilege to witness.</p><p>“Looks like you finally got it right.”</p><p>“Huh…?”</p><p>The king chuckles, retrieving the crown off Yuuri’s head to bring it to his sightline. The latter gasps at the development, feeling along the roses as though to confirm they’re real. “I’ve—I’ve ruined you gift,” he says, haltingly, though a bit of pride has infiltrated his tone.</p><p>“That’s quite all right.” Victor places the crown back where it belongs. “I always knew you had it in you.”</p><p>Yuuri clutches at the strand, dewy-eyed and soft. “Always?”</p><p>“Yes. And I always will, if you will do me the honor of continuing to tend my garden.”</p><p>Yuuri tilts his head, as though no other thought has ever occurred to him. “Where else would I want to be?”</p><p>As Victor pulls Yuuri into an embrace—garnering a squeak, a hesitant but tender touch upon the waist—he can only think that he most wholeheartedly agrees.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>♡~(◡‿◡✿)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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